


April Fools

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Thoughts, Enjolras thinks he's funny, M/M, Suicide mention, but he's really just a dick, i might add more but this is it for now, poor r
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras thinks it'd be a funny joke to "break up" with Grantaire over text on April Fools Day. No one agrees with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	April Fools

**sorry i have to break up with you.**

Grantaire had been a mess on the floor for the past five minutes, and those had been the words that put him there.

He’d walked through the door, done with classes for the day.  Checked his phone.  Three missed texts.

**Ep: you little shit**

He had Saturday off from work, she didn’t.

**Jehan: get home safe!**

Self-explanatory.

**Apollo: sorry i have to break up with you.**

Self-explanatory.

He leaned back against the door.  Had he locked it?  He didn’t remember.  He didn’t care.  He slid to the ground, feeling nothing at first, and then all of a sudden feeling nothing but pain everywhere.  Grantaire turned off the phone.  He didn’t wanted to look at the screen anymore, didn’t want anyone else to say anything to him.  He threw the phone.  Now he couldn’t be tempted to turn it back on and ask why.

The sobs he heard couldn’t belong to anyone but himself, he knew that, but he tried to convince himself that he was not making those pathetic noises.  The house phone started to ring.  He’d forgotten about the house phone.

_“Call from: Enjolras, Julien.”_  The automated voice mangled his name.  They used to joke about that together.  It hurt hearing it now.  He wanted to unplug the phone and throw that one too.

He knew that would be the wrong thing to do.  He knew he shouldn’t be alone.  Alone would lead to bad things.  Would lead to the vodka he’d hid inside a hollowed out book in his bedroom, where he knew no one would find it.  Would lead to drawing a bath, climbing in naked, and slitting his wrists, the water growing red, his face growing pasty, pale, gray, lifeless.

He liked the idea, and that’s when he knew that he had to call Eponine, or he would do it.  Of course he would.  For 364 days he was in love and happy and slowly slowly slowly feeling better and better about himself until he could look in the mirror and like what he saw, say nice things about himself, _believe_ nice things about himself.

All that progress was lost now.  The one person who made him value himself, who taught him how to love himself, didn’t love him.  If Enjolras didn’t love him, how could he love himself?

The phone stopped ringing.  He picked it up before it could start again and dialed Eponine’s number.  It rang and rang and rang for what felt like hours to Grantaire, hours where he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.  It was seconds.  She finally picked up.

“Hey, shithead.” She was laughing.  Grantaire was not.  He couldn’t form words.

“Grantaire?” She was concerned.

“E-eponine…” He made himself speak.

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up.  He disconnected the phone.  No more phone calls.

He slumped back to the ground, curled up on the floor.  He counted his breaths.  

1.

2.

3.

He had reached breath number 176 when his door flew open.  He didn’t look up to see who it was.  He hoped it was a man with a gun.  He hoped the man would put the gun to his temple and pull the trigger.  

“Grantaire?” Only Eponine.

He hadn’t locked the door.

Grantaire looked up at her.  His eyes were swollen, glassed over, red.  Tears fell without any stop.  

“What happened?” Her voice was comforting.  He liked it.  She got on the floor with him, curled around him, held him close.  Enjolras did that sometimes.  He let out another loud sob.

“Shh, shh.  It’s okay, sweetie.  It’s okay.  What happened?”

He cried more.  He took a deep breath.

“H-he… he broke up with me.”

Saying it made it real.  He sobbed again.

Eponine was quiet.  Grantaire could feel the rage radiating off of her just as much as he could feel the love and the comfort and the care.

She stayed with him, murmuring sweet things into his hair, letting him know that he was loved.  Her voice was not the one he wanted to hear, but it was a comfort to him anyway.  His tears slowed, and then stopped.  He focussed on his breathing again.

Eponine kissed his hair.  “Tell me everything.”

Grantaire nodded a little.  Thinking about it made him want to cry again, but his eyes felt dry.  He didn’t think he had any more tears left to cry.

“I got home from class.  I checked my texts.  I had one from him.  He said he had to break up with me.  That… that’s it.”  His voice was dull.

Eponine took in a sharp breath.  “Coward,” she hissed.  There was venom in her voice.  “How could he?  Over text?  The fucking coward?”

Grantaire shriveled.

She wrapped her arms around him more tightly and kissed his temple.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, R.”

There was a loud pounding on the door.

Neither Eponine nor Grantaire moved.  The pounding continued.

“Grantaire?!” The urgency in the voice on the other side of the door was tangible.

Grantaire’s eyes darted to the door.  That was the voice of the man who had broken his heart.

Eponine stood with the feral grace of a cat on the hunt.  She bound over to the door, a look of absolute hatred on her face.  She opened the door as quickly as she had gotten up, and it was with that same quickness that she slid the shoe off of her foot and threw it in Enjolras's face, hitting him square on the nose.

Enjolras couldn’t get a word in before the yelling started.  

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?!”

Grantaire cringed back, squeezed his eyes shut, counted his breaths.

“You’re a piece of shit, an absolute piece of shit!  And I knew it, I always knew it.  I trusted you with him, I trusted you with his heart and you fucking shattered it to pieces!  Big fucking surprise you pompous-”

She was cut off.

“Eponine!” Enjolras did not use this tone often.  He used it with ignorant people.  He used it at rallies to call attention.  And he used it now to finally be allowed to get a word in.

She remained still, she remained quiet, and she remained furious.

“It… this is going to sound awful.  It _is_ awful.  I… it’s April Fool’s day and I… I didn’t mean it.” Enjolras sounded pitiful.

Grantaire counted the seconds of silence before anyone spoke again.

28\. 28 seconds.

“It was a _prank_?” Eponine’s voice was dripping with disgust.

Enjolras nodded.  Grantaire’s heart leapt in his chest.  He let himself hope it was true.  He let himself hope that Enjolras still wanted him, still loved him.  He felt like an idiot for hoping.

“Get out.” Eponine was not playing.

Grantaire shot up, the fear and the sadness creeping through his veins all over again.  What if Enjolras actually left?

“No!” It was a desperate plea, pathetic to his own ears.  His voice was hoarse.

Enjolras looked down at him, seeing him curled up on the floor for the first time.  Grantaire noticed his red-rimmed eyes.  Had he been crying too?

“Grantaire…”

He felt a warm feeling creeping through him, replacing the bad feelings and the bad thoughts.  He loved when Enjolras said his name.

Enjolras side-stepped past Eponine.  She watched his every movement like a predator would its prey. He crouched down on the floor next to Grantaire.

Enjolras held a mismatched bouquet of flowers in his hands, no two flowers the same.  Grantaire eyed them.

“I um… I tried to ask Jehan which flowers meant ‘I’m sorry, I made a terrible mistake and I’m so, so sorry,’ so I uh… I just got one of everything.  One of them has to right.  Right?” Enjolras’s voice was soft and sweet, like warm honey.  Grantaire did not reach out to take the flowers.

Enjolras stood back up and set them on the counter, then returned back to his spot on the floor.  He got on his knees and reached out slowly, as if reaching for some scared, jittery stray who would flee at any quick or untrusted movement.

He was close to touching him, so close, before Eponine lost her cool.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” The hatred in her voice was unlike anything Grantaire had ever seen.  She and Enjolras had never gotten along, that fact was obvious to everyone, but it had never been this bad.

Then again, he had never broken Grantaire before.

“Eponine… it’s okay…” Grantaire’s voice was still quiet, still hoarse.  It broke Enjolras’s heart a little.

Eponine said nothing.  She had put her shoe back on her foot, and was now turning sharply.  She left through the door, slamming it behind her.  

Grantaire knew that she just needed to blow of steam and then she would return to her senses, but he was sure that any chance of Enjolras and Eponine getting along at all was completely ruined.

Enjolras stared at the door for a few long moments before turning his gaze back to Grantaire.  He moved in so that Grantaire was so, so close to finally being in his embrace.  

“May I?” Enjolras was always asking for consent.

Grantaire nodded.

Enjolras gathered Grantaire into his arms.  He settled into a better position on the floor and pulled Grantaire into his lap.  Enjolras’s face was buried in his boyfriend’s unruly curls, pressing gentle kisses.  Grantaire could swear he heard sniffling, but he was unsure whether they belonged to Enjolras or himself.

They stayed there for quite a period of time, tangled together.  Enjolras spoke soft, sincere apologies into Grantaire’s hair frequently.  Grantaire said nothing.  

It was dark outside.  Grantaire wasn’t sure what time it was, nor did he care.  He saw the darkness and his exhaustion was calling him to bed.  He moved out of Enjolras’s embrace.

Enjolras watched him closely, not moving, an unasked question present on his face.

“I want to go to bed,” Grantaire explained.

Enjolras nodded, standing up and then helping Grantaire to his feet.

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand and led him to the bedroom.  He knew if he hadn’t brought him, Enjolras would not have followed.  Grantaire stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into the bed.  He looked tiny in the center of the bed, the blankets all gather around him.

  
Enjolras followed suit, keeping on his boxers and t-shirt and climbing into bed beside Grantaire.  He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in close to his chest.  They exchanged small, meaningful “I love you’s,” and they both fell asleep. 


End file.
